Weight and body issues aren’t what they seem. For children of dysfunctional families, they mean comfort and escape. They are the friends who never disappointed me.

During the nights of my father’s rage, even in the terror, a sense of calm filled me up because I knew Mom, a co-dependent within her husband’s alcoholic addiction, would reward me with presents the next day. It was often a movie with popcorn and candy, or ...

“The evening begins when I am eight and my sister, eleven. We were trying to finish dinner before he’d unraveled. Within minutes, I’m hiding under the dining room table, cowering’ praying that he won’t see my hiding place.”

Hiding places – we all have them when growing up in a family that battles addiction. The rage – physical and mental – comes unexpectedly. We never know when our daily life will change. We are children that hope for the loving parent ...

I’ve been thinking a lot about risk lately. Just the word used to cause a shudder in my body from head to toe. Risk. I knew I needed to take it when growing up in my family if I was going to change anything. You see my father was an alcoholic. All the dysfunction you might imagine came with it. Rage, violence–verbal and physical intimidation–the codependent mother trying to keep the peace, and my sister and I, left to carve ...